


I'm Not Over You (But I'm Trying)

by TinyGiant



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Dildos, M/M, Masturbation, Pining, larrie canon divergence because who knows what canon is really like this is real life ya know, or well, unrequited feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-20 19:04:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18998656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinyGiant/pseuds/TinyGiant
Summary: Louis' House of Solo photoshoot drops, and Harry forgets how to forget about boys.





	I'm Not Over You (But I'm Trying)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, friends. Happy Wankers Day! I had started writing this before the fest was announced, to be honest, and it was probably going to die in my files if Lauren hadn't made this happen. So thank you, Lauren! You're such a driver of creativity in this fandom. We're blessed to have you.
> 
> The photos in this story are all from Louis' House of Solo shoot and can be found on any social media or Google, haha. They're iconic, and I couldn't pretend like Harry wouldn't find them obscenely hot. So, that's where this came from. I know a lot of people won't like the whole "Louis broke Harry's heart because Harry was in love with him but Louis' straight" trope but it's easy for me to write either way as a person with a straight best friend who I pined after for years. Also there's on open ending so you can just imagine they become whatever you want them to be after that! In my head they fall in looove and have lots of awesome sex.
> 
> Anyway, hope you like this!! Feedback is encouraged!
> 
> Title from the glorious Party For One by Queen Carly Rae Jepsen

Harry didn’t mean to stare at the photo for an undetermined amount of time as he entered a dissociative state of horniness. He’d been having a perfectly average Wednesday. He woke up early, did his workout, went out to lunch with a friend and was then determined to rest for the remainder of the day. That goal found him on his sofa, naked, with a glass of red and a documentary about the Crusades on in the background while he dicked around on his phone. It was 6 p.m., and he was elated. That was, he was elated until he, while perusing Twitter (something he did more often than he led his fans to believe), was hit by the picture. Over and over again. It seemed like every fan he followed, and some of the radio stations and publications, as well, had collectively decided to lose their shit about Louis today. They were certainly justified in doing so. 

Harry knew Louis’ song would be coming out soon. It would be impossible for him not to know, really, as he surrounded himself with people who knew Louis and his people. On top of that, Louis had actually emailed Harry for the first time in about two years to let him know what the song would be about, should Harry want to make an effort to listen to or not listen to it, depending upon where he was with his own grief of the last few years. So, Harry was expecting a song and some promo, but this—a fashion photo shoot that put him in well-fitted turtlenecks while sporting a refined quiff and groomed facial hair to compliment his unreal bone structure—was beyond anything Harry could have imagined. It was like he was suddenly transported back into the mindset of his horny 17-year-old self who would get off to thoughts of Louis more times than could’ve been healthy. 

This particular image appeared to be the cover of the magazine. Red background and black top only helping to exude power from the picture. Harry didn’t mean to let this picture draw him out of relaxation, but after more than a moment of gazing at Louis, Harry’s cock twitched, demanding something more. 

“No,” Harry said out loud to his dick. “We will not be getting off to this...spectacular photograph. That would be inappropriate and dangerous.”

He felt his dick get sad. 

Harry sat up and took a drink from his glass of wine, locking his phone. He turned his attention to the utterly uninteresting documentary he had picked for some fucking reason. He could only listen to some presumably old, wrinkly Scotsman talk about religious warfare for so long before mindlessly picking up his phone again, this time seeing he had a message from Harry, his stylist. Thinking it may be an update on his MET Gala look, he enthusiastically clicked the notification open. 

“Motherfucker,” Harry whispered. 

Instead of finding new mockups of his attire, Harry had sent him two more pictures of Louis. These also featured fantastic high-collared tops (and honestly, who pulled those off better?) but they were different. One was more artsy, covered in some kind of script. He wore it with fitted trousers, standing like he was in charge of the planet. Harry stared at that one for a bit, wondering what he would do if he saw that Louis in person, before he switched his attention to the angelic profile in the next photo, which also featured a high neck top, this one brown Valentino from what Harry could see. 

Harry’s eyes traced over Louis’ hair, down over his forehead, to his lovely, lovely eyelashes and thin nose. Past his prominent Cupid’s bow and over his thin lips, to end at his chin, which led down to his poised neck. That profile was otherworldly. It could make men weep. It could cut glass. It could inspire 1,000 wank fantasies. Harry gulped. The picture also featured one of Louis’ best assets, his gorgeous, powerful hands. Those hands had been on Harry. Thousands of times. They’ve hugged and squeezed and wrapped and tugged and pet and ruffled and tickled and hit and rubbed him. They had magic, Harry swore it. It had been years since those fingers had given him attention, but Harry could still feel them. He could feel them in places they had been and places they hadn’t. He could feel them in him. He’d imagined it enough. God. 

“You’ve got competition :0” 

No, no he didn’t. Louis was running an entirely different race than Harry, leagues more advanced, and he was winning. 

“I won’t be winning this one, mate”

Harry shamefully downloaded the pictures Harry had sent him, along with all the new ones he found on Twitter from that day, and saved them to the locked note in his phone labeled “TAXES” that actually contained his holy grail wank bank material. His cock was getting hard at the mere possibility of using this new input, but Harry shut it down before it got out of hand. 

“Listen, mate. If you’re still interested in these when it’s time for bed, we’ll take a look. Until then, you best relax, yeah?” Harry directed to his dick, once again, as all normal people did. 

It seemed to work, as he downed the rest of his wine and put on some romcom that had been on his list for ages. It starred Amy Adams, so it couldn’t be bad. Harry forced himself to watch it all the way through and then watch The Notebook for the millionth time before standing up, stretching, and picking up his phone. It was nearing 11, so it was an appropriate time to head upstairs for some sleep. Harry’s dick, which had behaved throughout the entirety of both films, suddenly remembered what going upstairs would mean, though, and jumped. 

So, Harry proceeded to clean the kitchen, which took maybe ten minutes since it was already neat. He took an unnecessary shower, jacked off and shaved his legs and his pubes and his face. He moisturized everywhere. He brushed his teeth twice, did a face mask, meditated and folded some towels all before he ran out of things to distract him from going to bed, and he was still so fucking horny. 

He stared at the bed, stared at this phone, rolled his eyes and said, “you win.”

As he got under the covers and unlocked his phone, Harry let himself think the thoughts he’d had as a teenager. Thoughts he’d actually had until the band ended and a bit after that, but they’d stopped around the time he filmed Dunkirk, like Harry had drowned them in the freezing sea water, along with a lot of other harmful stuff from his past. It was easy enough to pull them back to the surface, though. 

When Harry pulled up the picture of Louis’ profile, he touched his smooth thighs. He traced over their silky strength, wondering if Louis would like them that way. Wondered what Louis’ fingers would do if they were on him. Harry shivered as his cock grew harder. 

In his mind, this new, older Louis was even more powerful than he’d previously known him. Stronger. He’d been through hell and made it out more than once. He was fierce, and he could ruin Harry. He could break him, pull him apart achingly and desperately, only to easily reassemble him with tenderness and love. He could give Harry everything he knew he needed and even more he didn’t know he needed, just like Louis always could. 

Throughout the years, Harry would revel in any attention Louis gave him, and he would only crave more. He would relish the feeling of Louis’ arms around him, would get hard under the most embarrassing of circumstances. In interviews or in bed with Louis or on stage, if he thought of the way he wanted Louis, Harry would pop a stiffy. So really, nothing had changed. Here he was, 25 years old, with his hand on his cock, thinking about Louis Tomlinson. 

This Louis would know Harry even better, Harry thought. Harry let his hands move on him the way he imagined Louis’ would know how to. They would come up and brush his nipples lightly, just to tease, before making their way back to pinch. Harry gasped at the feeling. Louis’ tongue would follow up the sting with a warm lick before encompassing the bud with his lips, knowing Harry would need the relief. Harry licked his left fingertips and imitated the feeling on his left nipple, sighing in pleasure. His right hand kept pulling at the other nipple the way Louis’ would. Louis would keep him on edge, giving him pain and pleasure simultaneously on instinct. Harry’s cock pulsed. He threw his covers off before his precome could stain them. 

Harry brought his right hand up to his mouth, laving at the fingers messily, only to return them to the nipple he’d been torturing. He thought of Louis tongue soothing it, keeping it warm and wet as his other hand would lightly trace over his stomach, looking for hair to pull. It was like Harry could hear Louis’ deeper, huskier-than-it-was-three-years-ago voice whisper to him. 

“Tidied up for me, eh?” he would say with a chuckle before giving Harry’s soothed nipple a bite. Harry pinched his nipple and inhaled sharply, his other hand feeling around his balls like Louis’ would. 

“S’okay, love. Like you bushy or bare,” Louis would taunt. 

Harry blushed at the idea. He’d always wanted Louis to appreciate him naked. He’d strut around their apartment in the buff regularly just to get a reaction out of him, but Louis would usually ignore it or tease him. Harry missed the teasing. 

In his mind, 27-year-old Louis kisses his way down to Harry’s cock before kissing the head. A drop of precome escapes and Louis licks it up, making Harry gasp. Harry wraps his hand around his dick and let’s his mind wander. When he was younger, all he wanted was to see Louis’ cheeks hollowed out around his cock. He imagined it more than anything at first. He’d watch Louis sing and talk, watching the way his cheekbones would stick out so far when his mouth was narrowed. He’d watch Louis smoke a joint and wish his lips would wrap around his dick and take him down in a beautiful way that only he could. Naturally, that’s where this new fantasy led him. Harry picked up his discarded phone and observed how his stubble highlighted his cheekbones even more. Harry’s hand gripped his dick tighter, thinking about this gorgeous man’s mouth open to take his cock. 

Harry moaned. Louis’ mouth would envelop him, warm and wet and eager, but not too eager. He’d push Harry’s hips down into the mattress, forcing his stillness despite his instinct to thrust. Harry whimpered, and he knew Louis would push off to shush him. 

“Shhhhh,” Louis would whisper. “Be good for me, Harry. Let me taste you. Be still, baby.”

Harry bit his lip and tugged his cock slowly, chanting be good, be good, be good to himself in his mind. God, he wanted to good for Louis. 

Harry let himself think of Louis’ hands switching to pinning his wrists down as he took his cock back in his mouth slowly. All Louis would need to do to keep Harry restrained would be to gently place his hands on Harry’s wrists. He’d be so pleased when Harry would go rigid under him in an effort to do just what Louis wanted. 

Harry brought his right hand up to his mouth for a quick, wet lick to his palm. It wasn’t enough to truly mimic the hot feeling Louis’ mouth would give him, but it helped him imagine it was Louis’ mouth moving up and down on his dick, sucking him down gently yet strongly. Harry knew Louis would take his dick like a pro. Everything came so effortlessly to him, and everything with Harry came ever easier. He knew Louis would know to start slow, focusing on licking around the tip as he pulled his head up and jerking his base as he took his head back down. Harry’s hand reflected imaginary Louis’ movements, gripping his cock tightly as he pulled up, thumb running over the head once it got there, and then taking a moment to twist his hand and the base as his hand returned there. 

“Fuuuuuck,” Harry sighed out at the feeling. He hadn’t had a wank this good in ages. Probably since the last time he let himself imagine Louis was the one bringing him pleasure, which was about two years ago now. Harry knew it wasn’t good or healthy for him to return to the impossible idea that Louis could want him, what with the pain the quiet rejection had brought him for so many years, but looking at Louis’ cover picture, he let himself desire a few of those fingers up his arse, just one last time, he promised himself. 

Harry kept up his pace on his cock while he looked over Louis’ hands in the photograph with the Valentino jacket. Harry knew that some people had a thing for his hands, thought they were sexy or whatever, but there were truly no more beautiful hands in the universe than those of Louis Tomlinson. In Harry’s fantasy, Louis’ unoccupied hand brought two fingers up to Harry’s mouth, so Harry put his phone down to stuff a couple of his own in there. Louis popped off of his cock for just a moment to breathe out a command. 

“Suck them, baby,” he whispered quickly while prodding them in deeply. 

Harry mouthed at his own two fingers sloppily, all while not letting up his work on his dick. He imagined Louis getting ready to use those fingers elsewhere on Harry’s body. He felt his hole clench dryly at the idea. Louis would bring his mouth up to suck at Harry’s head tightly as he let Harry get his fingers wet. In his mind, Harry saw Louis doing so, mouth narrowing around the tip to a point where his glorious cheekbones were showcased better than ever. His tongue came out to lick the precome from Harry’s slit, so Harry’s thumb rubbed into the slit roughly, causing him to shudder throughout his entire body, toes tingling. 

At this point, Harry imagined Louis pulling off of his cock, looking up at Harry through his long lashes and placing a soft kiss on the head before smiling softly and crawling up to where his body was aligned with Harry’s. 

“Do you want more, Harry?” Louis’d ask, knowing the answer was always going to be affirmative. He’d ask, though, his tone of voice more serious than ever. He always wanted to make sure Harry got exactly what he wanted.

Harry nodded his head in real life, letting himself reply out loud, as if Louis were there to hear him.

“Yeah, Lou. Please give me more of you. Needed it for so long.”

“Aww, baby, shhh,” Louis said in Harry’s mind, eyes crinkling with a small smile. “I’m sorry you had to wait so long. You always deserved it. It’s time you get it, love.”

Harry imagined Louis coming down to kiss him softly, placing small kisses on Harry’s mouth as his hand, still wet with Harry’s spit, traveled back to Harry’s hole. Harry teased his hand behind himself, wishing there were a way to replicate how Louis’ kiss would feel. Instead, he felt between his cheeks with one finger and inserted it gently, knowing Louis’ would feel much better. He knew Louis would tease him a bit more, would wiggle his finger in softly at first, then plunge it in firmly to the knuckle, just like Harry needed. Harry could never bring himself to tease like he knew Louis would, though. Fantasy Louis kept his gentle pace inside of Harry, whispering sweet affirmations into his ear.

“Soooo pretty, Harry. Your hole is perfect for me. Perfect,” Louis whispered huskily into his ear. “Want to do this always.”

Just the thought of being touched by and touching Louis for the rest of his life made Harry’s cock jerk. His hole clenched around his fingers, and he let out an embarrassing moan. 

Fantasy Louis chuckled at him and sped up his finger. Harry’s own reflected the thought, reaching for the lube in his bedside table. 

“Commitment really does it for you, doesn’t it darling?” Louis would ask.

“Yes, yes. So much, yes, Lou,” Harry replied aloud, voice desperate. “Fuck, you treat me so well.”

“Aw, darling,” Louis said quietly in the fantasy. “You deserve everything good. Such a good boy.”

Harry moaned louder than before, imagining Louis would kiss all over his face after that praise. Fast little smiley kisses that would make Harry grin and blush. Louis would absolutely shower him with affection. Harry let himself think about the adoring partner Louis would be as he put lube over three of his fingers, knowing Louis would have probably used it way sooner. He’d be too concerned about hurting Harry to have not.

His fantasy carried on in the same fashion, Louis fingering him thoroughly and gently, providing him with kind words and wet kisses wherever he could reach. He was getting close to coming already, though, so he sped up the last bit of fingering to make sure he was ready for Louis. Or, well, the lifelike, perfectly Louis-sized dildo sitting in his drawer. Harry had felt sick when he bought the toy. He’d consciously searched for a dildo that looked like what he imagined Louis’ hard cock would look like. He’d seen Louis flaccid, and he was perfect. Thicker than average and a nice length that Harry assumed would grow to be about 6.5 inches, if his excellent estimation skills when it came to dicks was correct. So, Harry searched until he found one that matched everything about Fantasy Louis’ cock. It made him feel like a creep years ago, but it’s always been his favorite.

Harry pulled out the toy and dragged lube on it as he saw Louis stripping quickly in his imagination. 27-year-old Louis was still fit as fuck. Trim and soft and firm and angular all at the same time. His skin was paler, but his pubes were still a perfect coppery trail. Louis had always kept his bits tidy on a normal basis in the band, which Harry thought was impressive. He’d let his own bush grow wild and free most of the time because shaving was a bitch, but Louis’ hairs weren’t as thick or wiry as Harry’s. It was always trimmed down perfectly, driving Harry insane with thoughts of Louis pampering his dick. That had always led to a fantasy where Louis wanted shave his arse and ended up loving the feeling so much he would finger himself to an orgasm. Harry thought about Louis entirely too much during his time in the band. 

And here he was again, picturing a grown Louis naked and perfect for him, kneeling between his knees with a condom-and-lube-covered cock in his hand and a smile on his face. Louis would lean over then, coming to kiss up Harry’s tummy to his face, cock catching at his entrance. Harry gasped at the idea and put his dildo in the same spot.

“Harry,” Louis said breathily as he pulled away from a kiss on the lips.

“Babe,” Harry replied, rubbing his toy around his prepped hole. 

“I want you so bad,” Louis admitted and kissed him harder than he had all night, but only once. “Do you want me, too, love?”

There was no world in which Harry didn’t want him. Harry would never be able to escape the idea of being fucked by Louis Tomlinson.

“Always, Louis,” Harry whined. “Get in me. Please get in me.”

Louis looked into his eyes, face full of love and sincerity. He ran his left hand through Harry’s hair, resting it behind his neck. He stared for a second longer. Harry had a thing for eye contact, and his visions of sex with Louis always included copious amounts of it. Just to have that connection with him—it was hard for Harry to think about outside of a wank. 

“Of course, lovely. Of course,” Louis would say softly, placing his lips softly on Harry’s mouth as he began to push in.

Harry’s dildo went in smoothly, knowing its way around Harry’s arse more than any other cock, real or fake. Harry moaned quietly as it made its way in, knowing Louis’ cock would feel similar but better. Warm and twitchy and perfect. In his mind, Louis would sit back on his knees then, his cock fully inside of Harry, and place his arms under Harry’s knees. There was truly no way for Harry to replicate this, but that was the position that always got his prostate. He knew Louis would know that and take care of him. The best Harry could do was bring his knees up to his chest, so that’s what he did.

“Y’alright?” Louis would ask, breathing labored from restraint, ready to fuck his boy. 

Harry nodded, forehead creased as he felt Louis’ cock barely miss his prostate, teasing him.

“Good, good, Lou. You can start.”

With that, Louis would cut to the chase, pulling out slowly at first, letting his thick cock leave Harry feeling empty, only to fill him back up again immediately, stretching him anew. Harry’s hand gripped the base of his dildo. He started fucking himself like Louis would, pushing the toy into his prostate firmly at an easy pace. Not too fast or slow, just enough to make sure his prostate was always being stimulated without torturing it. Louis would want it to be sweet and stimulating, not too much.

While keeping the dildo going consistently, Harry groans, picturing Louis fucking into him. He could see Louis between his thighs, strong arms holding his legs up effortlessly. Louis would be gently moaning, Harry knew. He’d heard him jack off before, so he knew what sounds he made, unfortunately. Light, satisfied whines would ease out of his throat as he bucked his pelvis into Harry’s. Harry could see how his undefined yet present abdominal muscles would flex in time with his thrusts. Louis was just so effortlessly sexy, in fantasy and reality.

“Feelin’ good, baby? Feel so good for me,” Louis said in Harry’s mind.

All Harry can do is nod and accept the fucking Louis is giving him, better than any other he’d ever had. His moans grew louder as Louis increased his pace. The toy Harry was using was hitting him just right, filling him up and giving him everything he needed to imagine it was Louis’ cock in him. 

Louis always got really quiet when he was about to come, like he was focusing all of his energy and feeling good and getting there, so when Harry was close he imagined Louis like that. Fucking his arse like he belonged in it, like he knew it intimately, quietly watching his cock disappear inside of Harry as he shifted one of Harry’s legs onto his shoulder and reached down to jerk Harry off. Harry wanked with his free hand as he imagined Louis stimulating him like this, just about overwhelming him with pleasure. 

“Fuck fuck fuck, shit, Louis. Gonna come. Please come in me,” Harry begged aloud, followed by a whine. 

It was his favorite thing, imagining Louis finishing inside his arse, snug against his prostate, releasing his come deep inside of Harry. Condom or not, the thought of Louis’ come inside of him made him want to yell.

“Yeah, baby, that’s it. Let go for me. Taking it so good,” Louis said behind heavy breaths, pace now overstimulating. “I’ll come as soon as you do, love. Come for me.”

With that thought, of his come being released by Louis and for Louis, Harry came. His fist enclosed his dick while he rode the dildo on his prostate, come running down his wrist and onto his stomach. He imagined Louis finishing right after, stomach clenching and hips pressing deep into Harry’s arse, wanting to be as close to him as possible. 

Harry let himself drift. He didn’t think, he only felt. Felt the fullness of a cock in him. Felt the weightlessness of orgasm surrounding his thoughts and movements. Felt the come cooling on his skin, drying on his stomach. Felt the sweat on his forehead matting his curls down. He was content, and he could breathe.

Soon, though, the drifting was pulling him to the surface. Reality came back one sensation at a time. He heard nothing but his now calming breaths. No other breathing surrounded him. No sweet words of love or praise. The cock inside of him was still rock hard, not soft and falling out like a real one would be. He pulled it out. He didn’t like the reminder. He finally opened his eyes and saw nothing but the darkness of his room, the few candles he had lit barely burning any longer. There wasn’t a silhouette beside him, laying near to keep watch. There was no sound. There was no touch. There was no smell or taste or sight of anything but himself.

Harry closed his eyes again, allowing one tear to fall before sighing and getting up to clean himself off. 

The walk reminded him how good of a fuck he’d just gotten. It was seriously the best orgasm he’d had in a year or two. Thinking about Louis fed his libido more than anything else, causing him to come hard and fall deep into relaxation afterward. But the bitterness of the fuck, the loneliness, came around swiftly as he thought about how Louis would surely guide him into the shower to clean up properly instead of just wetting a cloth and wiping him down as Harry did to himself. Louis’d let him stay relaxed, wash his hair and his body. Give his shoulders a rub while planting small kisses wherever he pleased. 

Harry left the bathroom quickly. 

He put on his thin black silk robe, the one with the blue embroidery on the sleeves, not wanting to be naked, and climbed back on the bed, ignoring what had just happened on it. His phone, the device that started all of this trouble, laid beside him on the pillow where he’d put it after getting too deep into his fantasy to stare at it any longer. He unlocked it, still seeing that fucking Valentino turtleneck photograph on the screen. What a beautiful boy.

He was still staring at the phone, more zoning out than looking at Louis, when he felt it buzz in his hand. Truly, the notification banner at the top could not have come at a more inopportune time. Louis had emailed him.

Harry put his phone in his lap and looked up at the ceiling. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, reminding himself of all of the progress he had made in his efforts to get over Louis in these past two years. As he breathed out, he released the guilt of his night of weakness and opened his eyes, allowing himself to bring his phone back up to his face and open the notification.

From: Louis Tomlinson  
To: You

Subject: Lunch?

Hey, Harry. Bit random, but I saw some photos of you jogging around London on Twitter today (who jogs outside in February, tosser). Anyway, I know you’ve got shit to do, but I’m in town alone right now. Would you want to hang out tomorrow, maybe grab a pizza? I’m in for whatever.

Let me know,

Lou xx

 

Harry has cursed himself. By giving in, he’d opened the universe’s door to reviving his and Louis’ friendship, and he was destined to pine closely for the rest of eternity. He would never be fulfilled because he would never be able to get over Louis. Life wouldn’t let him escape. It was tragic.

Okay, maybe he was being a bit dramatic. But how dare Louis suggest they get a fucking pizza when Harry’s in love with him. And how dare he sign off with Lou, a nickname many called him but he only called himself in response to Harry, like they were still pals. Ugh. Nothing was normal and nothing was right. But he couldn’t let the chance to see Louis get away from him. Why was he in London alone? When his girlfriend lived with him? 

Harry’s inner 16-year-old shivered with hope that maybe this was a new beginning. A beginning with a more satisfactory end. 25-year-old Harry sighed in resignation at his innocence as he emailed back, confirming that pizza at his place sounded amazing. At least Louis would be with him and he could maybe hear his laugh instead of imagining it. 

With a small flame of happiness reignited in his belly and a bit of anxiety in his bones, Harry rolled over and accepted an easy sleep. Tomorrow would be a better day.


End file.
